


Down by the Sea

by stargirl (orphan_account)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex, by the shore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan's freezing to death, and Ford's blind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> They're both 19 in this. All characters and plotlines belong to Gravity Falls.

The door to the shower stall stood wide open. Teasing. Beckoning Ford.

One had wrapped around the damp towel, grains of sand clinging to the surface, the other wrapped around the rusted doorknob.

Underneath the dim glow of the yard lights, Ford watched as his brother pretend he wasn’t shivering.

“You go first, Ford. I’ll relax out here.”

The daisies at Ford’s feet rustled in the frigid sea breeze. This was Ford’s fault, anyways. He and Stan had spent the morning in the ocean, with painful burns to show for it, and the afternoon searching for a rare form of sea algae. Well, Ford did the searching. Stan collected seashells and steered him away from crabs.

By the time Ford looked up again, the sky had turned an inky black and they raced back to the house.

The frigid breeze bit at Ford’s skin. He cast a longing glance at the showerhead, the promise of hot steam and cleanliness lurking just beneath.

Across the yard, Stan wheezed.

“Come on, Stan, you can’t just sit there – you’re susceptible to hypothermia!”

“You know the rules, Sixer. If I track sand inside the house, I’m dead meat. I’ll be fine.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m the toughest Pines in the family!” He flanked around. “Just don’t tell Pa I said that.”

Ford ran a hand over his face.

“Stan, will you please come here?” Ford asked, lacing his voice with a touch of plea. He removed his glasses, folding them and placing them on top of his towel.

Footsteps echoed across the stone of the driveway. A blurry outline stood in front of him.

“Whaddya want?”

Ford inhaled. He gripped Stan’s forearm, yanked him inside, and kicked shut the door.

Ford turned, peeling off his sodden shirt and turning the knob all the way to the little red flame. A spray of water shot out the nozzle head and Ford jumped backwards.

The shower was more of a shack, really, that he and Stan had helped build a few years before. It was right outside the house, underneath the bathroom window and had an open ceiling. Definitely not big enough for two adults.

His hands flew to the drawstring of his swimming trunks.

A hacking noise flooded the room.

“What are you doing there, Sixer?” asked Stan.

“I’m _getting clean_.” Ford’s pants dropped below his hips, knees, ankles, until he was holding them in his hands, under the spray of mercifully hot water, and hanging them to dry.

He paused, because why was Stan standing in the corner when he _could_ be basking in the spray of warmth?

Ford grabbed Stan’s arms, rubbing them. Even underneath the thick coat of arm hair, Stan’s skin was still rippled with gooseflesh. He yanked Stan forwards.

Ford positioned Stan so that he was directly under the spray. A moan escaped Stan’s lips.

“After the trek home, doesn’t it feel so nice?” asked Ford. “And if you freeze to death, dad’s gonna transfer all his athletic ambitions onto me.”

Ford couldn’t make out Stan’s expression, but he heard a chuckle.

“This is a good idea,” he said, “trust me. It’ll save on the water bill.”

Ford turned in the direction of the shelf, grasping at the bottles. After a full day of being dunked under waves, his hair felt like it was made of plastic.

“Stan, which one’s the shampoo?”

Strange. Ford sensed Stan hovering beside him, halting – the last time Stan had avoided him like this, there had been pyrotechnics involved.

“Stick out your hand,” said Stan.

“Where?” He wiggled his fingers, stretching forwards.

“Ford, just stick out your – OH MY GOD, NEVERMIND.”

 _Ouch._ A pair of hands entered into Ford’s hair, tugging it. Rough enough for Ford to bite his cheek.  He could feel the callouses, working the shampoo into a creamy lather, massaging into his scalp. It felt…nice. There was a distinct familiarity surrounding Stan’s large hands.

Ford let out a pleased hum. “I had fun today, Stan.”

“Yeah, me too. Glad to know I can still kick your ass at bean toss.”

“If I could just calculate the wind resistance, then I could get it in on the first try.”

“It takes skill, Sixer. Natural skill that you don’t have.”

Ford laughed, rinsing his hair under. Droplets of warm water ran down his ears. He shook his head, sending a spray of water towards Stan.

“Hey, quit it!”

“Not until I get some body wash.”

“Wh-what? No, you’re on your own, pal.” Ford frowned. Stan’s voice quivered, and he’d stepped back. Ford squinted, but the darkness obscured Stan’s expression.

“Come on, Stan. Shared nudity is perfectly natural, especially amongst twins. We’ve been doing this since we were kids.”

Ford crossed his arms behind his back. _Slam_. Sharp pain blossomed in his elbow. The shelf jolted. Something clattered against the ground.

“Stan?” Ford stepped forwards, right onto a bottle of Pantene. It rolled out from under his foot. Ford pitched forwards. Darkness, falling, darkness, falling. His arms flailed.

Ford always thought he’d die of malnourishment, surrounded by a stack of textbooks. Or maybe he’d be murdered by a sentient robot of his own creation. Perhaps it would involve spilled chemicals and a fiery explosion. If he died in _the shower_ – well, then he’d just have to come back and haunt the poor sap who found his body.

Ford didn’t have to worry about dying. A pair of strong hands grasped his wrists, and his head smacked against Stan’s chest. His knees collided with the wall, which would have been fine, if he wasn’t straddling his bother.

 _Oh._ He didn’t need his glasses to feel the raging hard on poking into his navel.

For a moment, the night was silent except for the steady rushing of water, pounding against wooden planks, the rhythm matching the frantic beat of Ford’s heart.

He wasn’t – no, his twin wasn’t –

_Natural reaction to stimuli. Completely unrelated. The frigid night air._

Ford had never felt attracted to anybody.

“Ford, I’m so fucking sorry.”

_A confession._

But it made sense. The one thing that could always call Ford back to the real world –

“You should just get as far away from me as you can.”

  - protected him, safeguarded him, inspired him –

“Please, just tell me to leave, Ford, and I’ll go.”

\- to make him feel _normal,_ to make him feel _loved_.

“Oh, god. I’m such a freak.”

Ford forced a watery grin onto his face. “Well, it’s a good thing that I am, too.” This is it. Bracing himself, he cupped a hand around Stan’s jaw, drawing a smooth circle with his thumb.

He kissed Stan. First, just a brushing of lips.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

Stan’s hand gripped his wrist. “Yeah, Ford. It’s pretty great.” Ford leaned forwards, tilting his head, catching Stan in a long, close-mouthed kiss.

For a second, they both froze. And, thank god, Stan opened his mouth, kissing him back.

God, Ford craved this. He wasn’t even sure when it had started – perhaps it was something he’d been carrying with him his entire life. Just another anomaly.

Stan’s tongue brushed against his lips. He tasted like the peppermint saltwater taffy they’d bought on the way home. The kiss became open-mouthed and frantic – sloppy. They broke apart, panting. A string of saliva dripped down Ford’s chin.

“Wow,” Stan mumbled into the skin below Ford’s ear, “this was not the outcome I was expecting.”

“But it was the best possible outcome.”

Stan kissed his jaw.

“Yeah, Sixer, today was pretty great.” He Ford again, at the junction between his clavicle and neck. “But you know what – “ another kiss “ – what would make it – “ Ford’s shoulder, this time, “ – even better?”

Ford should have known the answer. But he was a little distracted. He shook his head.

Stan’s fingers drew lazy circles on Ford’s hips, sending stabs of pleasure to his groin.

Ford felt a gentle brush against his ear. Stan’s words became a warm whisper.

“If we fucked.”

 _Well, that would be –_ a furious blush crept down Ford’s neck, spreading down his chest. He’d never considered fucking his twin before. But the thought of Stan panting, dripping sweat, pushed flush against him sent lightning bolts ricocheting down Ford’s spine. 

Words abandoned him.

“That’s be – nice,” he choked, his voice dry.

Stan’s hand cradled Ford’s waist.

“You could take me,” Ford continued, “from behind. Right?”

Stan shook his head, pressing kisses into Ford’s neck that made him squirm.

“Mm,” said Stan, “we’re not prepared. Don’t want to hurt you.”

Stan’s thumb pressed against his navel and he shivered. Stan pressed forwards, forcing Ford to back up until he was crowded against the wall.

Arousal swelled in the pit of his stomach. He’d never jerked off before, never really felt the need, but the sight of Stan, wrapped around him, rubbing a slow hand against his cock, sharing the scent of salty air was enough stimulus for all his blood to rush south.

“Stan,” Ford said, his voice small, “I don’t want this to end.” Stan’s knee nudged between his own, pressing harder, harder, until he was hitched up, just the tips of his toes touching the ground.

“No, no,” said Stan, raising his gaze to meet Ford’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Stan pressed them together until Ford could feel the rise and fall of his chest. He wrapped a hand around Ford’s cock.

God, if Ford was pleased with those hands in his hair, then he was absolutely ecstatic about this development.

Stan’s swim trunks were bunched around below his thighs, his cock pointing straight to his belly, already flushed red.

Stan started to stroke Ford’s cock, dragging his fingernails across the length. He let go, rubbing his thumb against the head.

Ford groaned in disapproval. Stan silenced him with a peck to the lips.

Stan aligned their hips, brushing their erections together, and palmed them both. He pumped.

Ford threw his hands around Stan’s neck and squirmed.

All he could think, all he could feel, was _Stanpleaseohmygodmore_. He thought the water would evaporate the moment it hit his face.

With each thrust, fire burst through Ford’s veins.

Fords breaths came in ragged pants, his nails scrambling for purchase on Stan’s back. He head bumped against the wall. Stan wore a look of intense concentration.

“Stan,” he murmured.

_SLAM!_

“Lee? Ford?” The boys froze. Footsteps pattered outside. A knocking at the door.

Alarms sounded in Ford’s head.

He and Stanley locked gazes. Slowly, Stan pushed upwards. Ford picked up one foot, then the other, his knees squeezing Stan’s waist.

“Yeah, dad?” asked Stan, in the calmest voice Ford had ever heard.

“You’ve been out there long enough. So unless you plan on paying for this month’s water bill, get your ass back inside.”

“Sorry, dad. I’ll finish up.” He grinned at Ford, raising an eyebrow, and Ford rolled his eyes.

“Good.” More footsteps. The door shut.

Ford exhaled, slumping forwards.

“That was insane,” he said, wiping his brow.

“You’re lucky I’m an astounding bull-shitter,” said Stan. “Now, where were we?”

“You can’t be serious. You heard dad – and the water bill is a month’s pay for us!” With their jobs at the local grocery store, even extra butter at the movie theatre was a stretch.

Ford’s words were cut off by Stan rubbing against him.

Stan grinned. “So worth it.”


End file.
